


Bad Day’s One-Shots

by orphan_account



Series: Clint Barton’s Bad Days [2]
Category: Avengers, Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Clint Barton & Bruce Banner Frendship, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton & Steve Rogers Friendship, Clint Barton & Thor Friendship, Clint Barton & Tony Stark Friendship, Clint Barton Angst, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Domestic Avengers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Doctor Bruce Banner, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, One-Shots, POV Clint Barton, Protective Avengers, Protective Bruce Banner, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Thor (Marvel), Protective Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:07:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23470663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: One shots and shorter stories of Clint Barton’s worst days
Relationships: Clint Barton & Avengers Team
Series: Clint Barton’s Bad Days [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678423
Comments: 1
Kudos: 56





	1. Head in the Clouds

It was hard to process that they were so high above everyone. Sometimes, they even seemed close enough to touch. Clint wondered vaguely what they actually felt like. He was positive that, if they could be touched, they would be soft…. Like a pillow, or a feather. Would they be sticky, too? 

“Clint—!” 

Would they be sticky like candy? Perhaps thick like cotton? Or both, like cotton candy? As Clint gazed upwards into the sky, he realized that he may never have known. He barely had enough energy to breathe, there was no way he could muster up enough energy to even move at this point. 

He didn’t mind, though. The view was good enough for him. It was beautiful. The sky was lit up in a brilliant blue color and the clouds were white and fluffy. They weren’t gray, and they weren’t streaks today. They were all shaped differently, too… they were poofy... 

If Clint focused enough on one cloud, he could vaguely decipher a pig. There was its snout…. it eye was right there…. and there was its tail! 

“—Answer—“ 

The clouds took his breath away. Literally. Each second that passed by, it was getting harder and harder to take in a full breath. God, they really were breathtaking…. 

Clint wondered what it would be like to be a bird. To fly all day without a care in the world, to feel the wind in his hair…. it would’ve been wonderful to be a bird instead of a human man…

Blissfully, Clint shut his eyes. Being a bird would be nice… to be free… away from all of this— right as Clint was about to relax even further, the feeling of falling suddenly came over him and his eyes popped open again at the sudden change. 

However, the burst of energy didn’t last long, and his eyelids were soon growing heavy again.  
God… everything was so fuzzy.. he was so tired… could he just take a nap here? What would be so wrong with that? Who would be here to yell at him? The clouds? Yeah, right… 

This time, Clint eased into the relaxation slowly. His eyelids slowly fluttered closed and he sank happily into the peace… that was, until a voice suddenly jerked him out of bliss. 

“...Found him…”

Clint blinked open his eyes, frowning unhappily at a tall, dark figure leaning over him. 

The unfamiliar figure leaned in closer and, once his vision finally decided to focus, Clint realized that they weren’t unfamiliar at all! No, he knew that face anywhere! It was Steve Rogers! 

“Are you alright, Clint? God, what happened?” 

At the question, noises began ringing in Clint’s ears as he tried to recall. He vaguely remembered the bright, red lights flashing in his face… and the terrifying feeling as he spiraled… Was that right? Had he been flying? 

When Clint tried to remember more, he shuddered uncomfortably. All this focusing was getting quite overwhelming for him, and, as gentle and kind as Steve spoke, he sounded like he was underwater. It was difficult to focus on anything but the clouds that were ever so slowly drifting behind Steve’s head. 

He wondered if he could sleep on the clouds… more sleep sounded nice right about now…. Rest… all he wanted to do was rest… he was so tired...

When Steve spoke again, his voice was  
soft… and slightly muted. However, Clint couldn’t be sure if it was just his mind playing tricks on him again…. 

“Does that hurt, Clint?” 

There was a slight pressure on Clint’s side  
after the Captain’s remark, but by this point, everything seemed numb. Nothing really hurt anymore….

“Clint?” 

A warm, gloved hand grabbed his cooler, clammier one and squeezed tightly once. 

“Clint, can you squeeze my hand? Just to  
let me know that you can still hear me?” 

The only acknowledgement that Clint gave  
in response was a sluggish blink after he’d briefly met Steve’s eye. He didn’t want to squeeze, he was too tired… His focus was shorthanded, and his gaze didn’t stay on his friend. Soon, it had wandered off ever so slowly to the soft puffs of white in the sky behind Steve’s head. 

It wasn’t long before he felt like a cloud  
himself. He felt lighter than air as he practically floated with his head, quite literally it seemed, in the clouds. His mind steadily began returning to it’s flying/falling state. 

When exhaustion began catching up with  
Clint, he welcomed it. It wouldn’t hurt to sleep, right? Sleep is a necessity, wasn’t it? Everyone was always telling each other to go to sleep…

“Clint, no— Eyes open, eyes on me—!” 

Another tight, uncomfortable squeeze on  
his hand and Clint’s forced his eyes open to groan unhappily. Just let me sleep! 

“Eyes on me, Soldier!” Steve’s voice carried a certain sense of worried urgency to it. “Keep your eyes open, you hear?” 

Clint was so tired, exhausted. Why did he have to? 

“Help is almost here! Help is on its way— eyes here, eyes here!” 

Clint’s gaze drifted again, behind Steve’s  
stupid head, and back to the only thing really grounded him: the clouds. 

The edges of his vision were beginning to darken, but Clint hardly noticed. 

He was so focused on the sky… 

So blue… 

So pretty… 

It took his breath away…

It was getting harder to breathe…

“Hurry!” 

“We’re almost there!” 

Clint’s world faded to black right as  
another figure blocked his amazing view of the sky. 

The next few hours in Clint’s life happened in bursts. 

One time, he was aware of being lifted. It  
took him a minute to realize he was being carried. The position he was in made it so hard to breathe, but he passed out before he could comprehend much further. 

The next time he awoke, it was to a blinding, crushing pain. It didn’t take him long to realize he couldn’t get a full breath in. And, the commotion around him certainly didn’t help his case at all. In fact, it only succeeded in stressing him out more. 

“...Be okay…” 

He could tell when his shirt was removed  
by the chilling air that soon blasted him in the chest. His arm was lifted next, then a sharp pain pierced his side. He tried to move, to no avail, when he realized his limbs were effectively pinned. After that, though, breathing got easier, and it wasn’t long before he passed out again. 

Another time, he was blurrily staring up at  
the ceiling and there was a soothing voice humming in his ear. It didn’t take him long to realize it was Natasha. God, she always had such a talent for that kind of stuff… 

It was a Russian Lullaby, or at least he  
thought it was… it probably was; Natasha knew a lot of Russian music. He fell peacefully back to sleep, lulled by the song. 

Clint’s dreams were filled with falling  
through the air, then the air being squeezed out of him. They were filled with bright lights and sharp pains. Everything was chaos, it was spiraling down the drain with him, like an upside down tornado. He was scared, worried— everything was moving so fast, the air was against him… but, then, it wasn’t. 

Sweet melodies filled his ears— they were  
foreign and quite incomprehensible, but they were there. And, they were beautiful. As he listened, the storms died down, the pain was eased, and his mind was soon at peace. 

The first time Clint awoke fully, he felt better, but was hazy… not every breath was agony, but it seemed like every breath brought soreness to his bones. 

When he blinked open his eyes, he found  
himself staring up at a white ceiling. There was a constant, infuriating beeping in his ear, too… 

“Hey. Take it easy.” 

Clint slowly turned his head to where the voice had come from. “Huh…?” 

Steve smiled gently back at him. “You’re in the hospital… you had a pretty nasty fall…” 

“I did?” Clint frowned. He didn’t remember  
that… he just remembered the clouds. “Ev’ryone okay…? Di’ I crash…? Wait… Wha’ happened?” 

“No one was in the jet but you… and… You  
tell me what happened,” Steve sounded exhausted. “I found you barely breathing and bleeding from a shrapnel wound in the middle of a field. The jet was crashed a few miles away, at least that’s what Tony said... What do you remember?” 

Clint frowned, trying to focus past the drugs  
turning his thoughts to mush. 

Bright red lights. 

Fear. 

Falling. 

He passed out… or had he? He didn’t remember waking up before he was sky-gazing…. All he remembered was staring at the clouds. 

“Clouds,” Clint murmured. 

“What?” 

Clint turned his attention to the Captain. “I  
remember clouds.” 

“Did you crash the jet, Clint?” 

Clint shrugged slightly, even if his sore body protested against it. 

“And you don’t remember?” 

“Guess not… shock… maybe I panicked…” 

Steve looked almost panicked himself for a  
second before he seemed to force past it. “I… uh, I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it? I mean, you’re safe, you’re alive… we all are…” 

“Why question fate?” Clint finished, amused. “Yeah… speaking of the others, I didn’t put the mission in jeopardy, did I? You finished, didn’t you?” 

“We finished, yes,” Steve confirmed. “They had to wrap a few things up while I waited with you. Then we got you to the jet and brought you home.” 

“Where is everyone…?” 

“I haven’t let them know yet,” Steve said sheepishly. “I wanted to give you a bit of breathing room before they all came crowding in here… and before Natasha started scolding you.” 

“Yeah…” Clint huffed a laugh and gave a small smile at the comment. “She’s gonna feather ‘n tar me one of these days…” 

Clint could almost hear her voice in his  
head: “You want to be a bird, Barton? Sure, let’s roll you in some tar and cover you with feathers! Let’s see how you like that!” 

Clint shuddered and sighed. “I mean… Recovery’s gotta start somewhere, huh?” 

At this, Steve smiled warmly. “Alright,” He said. “I’ll let them know.”


	2. Caught in the Crossfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Clint Barton is caught in an   
> explosion, it’s up to only one of the Avengers to help save his life

The last thing Clint remembered before the  machine exploded was a missile shot from the arm of his very own teammate before a bright explosion of white across his vision and he was thrown backwards. 

He flew through the air, still quite a bit  shocked about the whole situation, before he slammed into something so hard, it stole the breath from his lungs. However, he didn’t get to dwell on that fact for long. His head was quick to snap back too, then he was engulfed in darkness before the pain could really set in. 

_ “...Birdie…?”  _

Over the ringing, the muffled voice broke  through Clint’s unconsciousness first. 

“... hear me…?” 

Clint groaned painfully, before squeezing  open his eyes. The world was blinding at first, a silhouette of blurry, washed colors hovered over him. One eye seemed to be glued shut. It took a second for Clint’s gaze to adjust and piece together what, or rather  _ who,  _ was over him. 

“T’ny?” 

“...hey…!” Tony’s voice and eyes were soft  and comforting, but also worried at the same time. “You doing alright?” 

Clint nodded shakily. “... Wind knocked outta  me…” When he tried to sit, however, he felt something shifted that shouldn’t have shifted and Tony forced him back into the pavement again. 

“Just… just stay there, okay?” Tony’s  voice was low, but shaking, clearly on the verge of panic. “Christ, Man… j-just stay put…” 

Clint blinked up at the man and followed  his arms just up before they disappeared over his line of vision. 

When he tried to raise his head and see  what Tony was pressing on, however, he was forced back down again. 

“No,  _ don't look, _ ” Tony ordered nervously. “Y-You’re  injured. Honestly, I don’t want anything moving that shouldn’t be moving. Just stay there. Help will be here soon.” 

Clint frowned. Injured? But, he didn’t  feel…? The realization settled in not too long later, enough to drain some color from the archer’s face. 

If he was injured, there should’ve been  pain. But, there was nothing. In fact, Clint could barely feel Tony’s hands pressing into him. He swallowed thickly, and tediously tried to move his legs to no avail. 

“T’ny…” Clint clenched his jaw, forced  himself to meet Tony’s eye. “T’ny… I-I can’t feel ‘anythin’…?” 

Tony answered first with a sympathetic  look. “You’re alright. Just relax. I-I think you’re in shock… Try to be still.” 

_ Still?  _ How could he be  _ still _ right now? Like, he  wasn’t even sure if he had any legs right now! He could be  _ paralyzed _ for all he knew! And, here Tony was telling him to be still? 

“Dude, your legs are still there…” 

Had he said that out loud? 

“I need you to be still so things don’t get  worse, okay? ‘Cause If things get worse,  _ I’m  _ gonna get worse… and I  _ really  _ don’t want that to happen, okay? So help a friend out here?” 

Clint clenched and unclenched his jaw,  then swallowed. “How bad? H-How bad ‘s ‘t?” 

Tony shook his head and looked away. 

_ “How bad,  _ Tony?” 

“Jesus, Clint,  _ I don’t know _ . Your definition  of  _ bad _ varies from mine. But, if we’re going off my definition and the fact that I  _ can’t  _ move you, I’d say it’s pretty bad… 

“D… Don’ feel it…” Clint admitted, shook  his head. “Don’ feel anything…” 

“Well, that’s not exactly good in anything  except that you’re not writhing in agony. But, still cool… Cool, good to know.” 

Clint didn’t respond except for the slightest  purse of his lips. He lay back on the ground and stared up at the sky, trying to find something to calm himself. 

The clouds were nice. So fluffy… he might  not ever walk again… was that one shaped like a dog…? 

The soft blue and golden tones were  making him sleepy. At least, he thought it was the tones. It was probably something completely different. 

The sky above was beginning to spin  slightly. Not much, but enough for Clint to handle at the moment. He took a deep breath and tried to control the sudden bout of nausea. 

“You okay?” 

“Hmm…?” 

“Are you alright?” 

“... ‘lil dizzy…” 

“Just keep holding on, okay? You can do  this. Talk to me.” 

“Just tired ‘s all…” Clint swallowed. “Wanna…  _ nap…”  _

“No! No. No napping. Just talk to me,  alright? Just keep talking to me…” 

Clint didn’t exactly feel up for it, but he  figured he might as well try. “Where… where is everyone…?” 

“They’re heading our way, okay? They  broke my damn jet, so they were delayed… honestly, I’m not sure  _ how, _ but, they’re on their way…  _ hopefully…”  _

“Hopefully?” 

“Yeah, comm’s gone a bit iffy over here—  service is bad or something, I’ll have to work on that—but, they should be coming. They called for a medevac, too. S-so we’ll have to see who gets here first… I mean, kinda don’t know who I’m rootin’ for more, y’know? Hopefully Bruce is coming, he’d better be. He’s smart and all, obviously, but he’s not 100% qualified for this kind of stuff. I mean, I know he’s been working on it a lot recently, but…” 

Tony kept rambling on and Clint allowed it,  nodding every so often to mask his disinterest. The billionaire was rambling probably because he was freaking out or something. Maybe he was blowing off some steam. Right now, rambling was probably the best way to do so. 

Still, all the same, it wasn’t really helping  anyone. Clint was still losing energy and strength. He could barely suppress the shivers that shook through his whole body. 

Tony kept talking, and Clint tried to keep  interest. It wasn’t working very well, though.  The words were going too fast for his poor  ears and distracted brain to keep up with. 

He shivered again, despite feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin. The hairs on his arms stood and his flesh erupted in goosebumps. He was getting cold, which was never a good sign going on how hot it was outside. 

Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure of how much  time he had left. It was almost like the line to the rest of his left had been cut. There was nowhere to go but in the end, even if it meant leaving everything behind on such short notice. 

“Tony…” 

Tony paused in his rambling and looked  over at the archer, clearly startled. “Am I hurting you?” 

“No…” Clint shook his head. “I-I can’t  feel it… seriously… jus’... just in case, I don’ make it out…” 

“C’mon, man, don’t talk like that, you’re  gonna be alright…!” 

“Just… Just in case… c-can you make  sure… no one thinks ‘ts their fault? Not even you…?” 

“Hey… you’re gonna be alright. They’re  gonna be here any minute now, you’ll be alright…” 

“Just… just make sure… make sure they  know… not their fault… not yours either…” he swallowed. “‘n… ‘n I’m sorry…” 

“What—!” 

“Please…?” 

Tony’s face fell and he bowed his head  slightly, nodding. “I’ll make sure…” he said reluctantly. “I-I promise…” 

“Good…” Clint finally allowed himself to  relax on the ground. He stared up at the sky, trying to completely ignore everything that was going on around him. 

The darkness was closing in, things were  starting to get fuzzy, but he didn’t care. He was so cold and aware of just how bad he was hurt… sleep didn’t seem like such a bad idea… 

Tony had started calling his name and  eventually started shaking his shoulder, but Clint was too far gone. Sleep sounded so nice right now… so warm… so peaceful. 

He finally allowed himself to relax fully and  things from there seemed to spiral. 

After Tony stupidly promised such bullshit,  Clint had altogether stopped responding to his questions. 

He was sure the archer had only been half- listening the whole time he was rambling, but at least he held  _ some  _ focus then. Now, he had gone limp and, though his eyes were still open, his brain seemed to have shut down. 

At first, Tony expected the worst, but when  he pressed his fingers into Clint’s wrist, he could still feel a pulse, despite how rapid and weak it was. 

“You Okay ?” Tony moved his hand from Clint’s  hand, up to his shoulder. “Feathers, you doin’ alright, Buddy? Can you hear me?” 

Clint didn’t even show the slightest  response. Not even a twitch. 

“No…!” Tony gave the archer’s shoulder a  gentle, but firm, shake. “Hey, c’mon— you can't pass out yet. Hold on. They’re almost here, okay? They’re almost here.” 

Clint didn’t seem to hear. In fact, if  anything, he only seemed to grow worse. His breaths were now being raspily inhaled through blue tinted lips. The only slight shake of his body soon grew into a full-on shiver.

Just before the comm’s had cut out, Tony  had been told very firmly not to move Clint since there was no telling just how badly he was injured. However, the temptation became stronger and stronger with each passing minute. 

“Where  _ are  _ you guys…?” Tony asked, half  to himself. “C’mon, hurry up…!” When nothing met his eye, however, he had to force down his panic. Instead, he tried focusing on Clint laying beneath him. 

His hands were starting to go numb with  how long he’d been pressing into the man’s abdomen, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He wouldn’t give up just because Clint seemingly had. 

“Birdie?” He tried again. “Birdie, can you  hear me?” 

There was no such response. Clint only  kept staring up at the sky through blank eyes. He was nearly completely still, barely even the rise and fall of his chest were detectable. 

“Okay, okay,” Tony tried to take a breath  and force back the tears that were threatening his eyes. “Clint? Clint, I-I dunno if you can hear me... I dunno ‘f you can speak or whatever, but I want you to listen to me, alright?”

No response. 

“You need to fight, okay? Fight with  everything you have, everything you are. You can do this, I-I  _ know _ you can! Do it for us, your team, your… your  _ family…  _ okay? Please? You’re stronger than this, this is just another day in the life, r-right…?” Tony couldn’t help but feel it was partially his fault. Could it possibly be the  _ last  _ day in his life? “Please, Clint, Please… fight it…  _ fight…”  _

It was at that moment Tony finally began  hearing voices calling out his and Clint’s names. He turned his attention in the direction it was coming from, but, the only thing he saw was two seconds of Steve coming up the hill before his world was engulfed in darkness. 

First, Tony was aware of ringing, closely  followed by the sounds of voices. He wasn’t completely sure what had happened, he wasn’t really sure where he was… the only thing on Tony’s mind was that he was supposed to be doing something. Something important. 

Clint! The realization hit Tony like a train  and he soon found himself sitting up with a gasp. Where was Clint? Shit! 

The chattering of voices stopped almost  immediately and the sounds of footsteps approached, but that didn’t stop anything in the least little bit. 

Tony pushed himself shakily off of the table  he had been sitting on, only for his legs to give out. He was caught not too long later by strange and unfamiliar arms, but when he tried to push the person away, he found himself unable. 

“Hey, Tony, calm down,” a familiar voice  said. “It’s just us here…” 

After Tony succeeded in pushing himself off  the person, he whipped around once steadied on the wall, only to see the worried faces of his friends staring at him. “Shit. Shit! Where’s Clint?” He demanded.  _ “Did I kill him?”  _

“What?” Bruce frowned. “No—!”

“I-I was supposed to stop the bleeding, but I  haven’t been doing that!” 

“Tony, Clint’s doing  _ fine _ ,” Natasha chimed in.  “He’s stable. You  _ already  _ stopped the bleeding.”

“I-What?” 

“We got there in time, Tony,” Steve said. “We were able to get him back on the jet and to Bruce.”

“Wha..  _ What?”  _

“Tony, look,” Bruce and Natasha stepped  to the side. When Tony looked past them, he saw the man lying there that he hadn’t noticed before. 

Clint seemed paler than usual, even from  afar. But, aside from the IV in his arm and the bandages wrapped around his midsection, he seemed to be doing alright. 

“See? He’s  _ alright,”  _ Steve repeated. “So  are you. You held out until we got there. You don’t have to do  _ anything  _ else.” 

The relief of Clint’s well being hit Tony so  hard, he damn near passed out with relief. This time, when a hand grabbed his forearm firmly, he didn’t fight it. He allowed himself to be led back over to the bed and eased into a sitting position. 

“Do you need anything?” Steve was quick  to ask. 

Tony glanced up at his friends all eagerly  staring down at him, clearly worried as well. His eyes scanned back and forth between the four of them before he finally shook his head. “I’m… I’m alright.” He said. “You don’t need to hover.” 

The four exchanged looks, then each  showed their acknowledgement. Natasha and Bruce headed back over to Clint, and Thor went to sit down in the corner. After that, only Steve remained. 

The super soldier sighed, drawing Tony’s  attention back slightly. “Mind if I sit?” 

“Do I have a choice?” 

“You always do.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Fine. Take  your seat and begin your lecture.” 

“Lecture?” The frown was audible in the  man’s voice and he sat. “What makes you say that?” 

“Uh, because you’re…  _ you?”  _ Tony scoffed  like it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it pretty much was. “Would you prefer speech? Or perhaps a disquisition? A  _ rousing _ discussion—?” 

“Tony.” Steve laid a hand gently on the  said man’s shoulder and Tony could help but shift away slightly at the touch. 

“What?”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re going to  be okay.” 

“I...I…” Tony sighed and cast a glance back  over to where Clint was peacefully lying. “I thought I killed him,” he admitted. 

“It wouldn’t have been your fault if he lost  too much blood before you could get to him…” 

“N-No— I-I mean—! When I shot that blast, 

I didn’t realize just how  _ close  _ he was until it was too late…” Tony felt sick just thinking back to it. “Something exploded and… and something crashed… when the smoke cleared, the only thing I could see was his  _ lack of movement.  _ I couldn’t even tell if he was  _ breathing _ .” 

“But he  _ was,”  _ Steve cut in. “You  _ didn’t  _ kill  him— you  _ saved  _ him. If you hadn’t been there to stop the bleeding, he would’ve  _ died.  _ He would’ve bled out in half the time it took us to get there.” 

“Took you long enough…” Tony scoffed.  “Why… why’d you have to break my jet? They’re _expensive...”_

Steve chuckled and shook his head, but,  even in Tony’s seriousness, he didn’t directly respond. “Are you going to be okay? Have I helped any?”

“Well… not really…” Tony admitted. “You didn’t,  but…” he shrugged. “ I think I’ll be alright.” Tony shot another glance to where Clint was laying and smiled. “We both will be.” 


	3. Foreign

Clint Barton  _ hated _ foreign missions with a  burning passion. He’d always been sure to be careful during those, especially when alone, but he hadn’t been careful enough, it seemed. 

At first, he’d thought he was fine. And, he  _ was  _ fine, all the way up to the middle of the hallway where his bedroom was. That’s when whatever happened decided to take effect. 

He’d been walking drearily back to a place  where he could rest, when suddenly, his stomach twisted painfully. So painfully, in fact, that he had to steady himself on the wall. 

What the hell?l

Clint swallowed dryly and glanced back up  at the hallway in front of him. Had it gotten longer? Why was everything spinning? Why did his head hurt so much? 

The world phased to black for a second,  bringing with it a painful and weird sensation in the archers mind. When the fog cleared, he found himself on his hands and knees and heavily panting. 

Before he could comprehend anything else, his eyes slipped closed and everything  went dark. He was out before he even hit the floor. 

“Dr. Banner?” 

The scientist in question frowned at the  sudden voice in his ears. What did they want, now…? 

“Dr. Banner, I have reason to believe  Agent Barton requires assistance.” 

Groaning quietly to himself, Bruce raised  his head from where it rested on his research table. He glanced around the lab from where the voice had come from, but to no avail, as no one seemed to be in here. 

“Dr. Banner, it’s JARVIS,” the voice  seemed more annoyed this time, and quite a bit more persistent as well. “You’ve asked me to consult you in certain situations…?” 

It was only at this time did Bruce finally  gather his bearings. “JARVIS?” He shook his head and reached for his glasses with a yawn. “Sorry, I was… what time is it?” 

“It is currently 3:56.” 

“3:56? Um… alright… what’s the… what’s  the problem, again?” 

“Agent Barton requires assistance,”  JARVIS said, slightly cross. “He appears to have returned from a mission scathed.” 

“How scathed?” 

“As of 3 minutes ago, Agent Barton  passed out on the fifth floor. His vital signs seems to be fluctuating.” 

_ “What?” _ Eyes widening, Bruce pushed  himself out of his chair vigorously. “Why didn’t you lead with that?” 

“My apologies,” the AI replied. “I wanted to  give you a chance to wake up.” 

“Jesus Christ, JARVIS,” Bruce huffed as he  rushed out of his lab. “Give me a chance to— you know what? Nevermind! Just… just fill me in. He passed out three minutes ago—!” 

“Four minutes ago.” 

“—Four minutes ago and his vital signs are  fluctuating? Define  _ fluctuating.”  _

“The word  _ fluctuating _ is a verb, it means to  rise or fall irregularly—!” 

“I know what  _ Fluctuating _ means! I meant—“  Bruce took a deep breath in order to calm himself once he reached the elevator. “Uh… H-How are his vital signs?” 

As the scientist jammed his finger into the  button, the AI answered: “Agent Barton’s body temperature appears to be 100.1, his pulse rate is at 112 beats per minute, and his respiration is at 10 breaths per minute.” 

Bruce pondered for a moment as the  elevator took off. He scanned his mind for the things he’d recently learned. High temperature: it sounded like a fever… but, could one pass out from a fever? He racked his tired brain for an answer… if high enough, one could pass out… right? But, that fever hadn’t been too high, had it? 

“Would you like to know anything else?” 

“No, thank you.” When the elevator came  to a stop and the doors slid open, the Scientist didn’t waste a second to hurry out. 

Right off the bat upon entering the hall, he  spotted a crumbled figure near the middle of the corridor, halfway between the elevator and Clint’s room. He hurried over and dropped to his knees next to the unconscious body. 

“Clint?” Shaking hands ghosted over the  pale and shivering body, hesitantly, before he rolled his friend onto his back. “Clint, c-can you hear me?” 

When no response occurred, Bruce  reached down to feel for a pulse at the wrist with one hand, while the other fished a penlight from his pocket. 

With a weak pulse present, he moved on  ruefully. He clicked on the penlight shakily, tilted Clint’s head back, and pulled down his jaw to peer in. 

Much to his relief, the scientist discovered  no apparent blockage. He lowered his head down to the archer’s level and hovered near inches from his slightly parted lips. “Clint, can you answer me?” 

As soon as he felt air tickle his cheek,  Bruce pulled away. He was breathing, he was alive, so what was wrong? Bruce grit his teeth. If only there was a way for him to wake him up— the memory crashed into him like a wave. Something he’d read about a while ago when reading medical files… 

With one hand, he formed a knuckle, then  placed the knuckle on Clint’s sternum and rubbed sharply, unsure if it would even work. “Come on, come—!” 

_ “Nngghh…!”  _ the hand that shot up from  the archer’s side and the strained breath nearly scared the living daylights out of Bruce. However, he managed to recover quickly and grab on with his other hand. 

“There you are… y-you’re alright, you’re  alright. You’re just sick. I-It’s just Bruce.” 

“Bruce…?” Clint swallowed thickly upon  spotting the man above him and his brow furrowed. When he attempted to move his head, the Scientist intercepted. 

“Just stay still for now, at least until we  know what’s wrong— hey, JARVIS?”

“Yes, Dr. Banner?” 

“Call Thor or Steve up here, will you?” 

“Right away, Sir.” 

Clint blinked, eyes mostly unfocused and  dreary before he took a breath. “Why d’I…? Why’re we ‘n the floor?” 

“JARVIS says you passed out after coming  back from a mission, and you seem to have a pretty weird case of something… do you remember that?”

At least he was lucid… 

Clint’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration  and a certain amount of frustration and fear began appearing. He opened his mouth slightly to respond, but then seemed to reconsider. “Why…” he tried again. “Has the carpet  _ always  _ felt this nice…?” 

_ Somewhat  _ lucid… “What?” 

“I-I mean… ‘ve never actually  _ laid  _ here ‘ fore…” he ran his fingers across the carpet, eyes narrowed in concentration. “It kinda feel…  _ nice…”  _

“C-Clint, that’s not…” Bruce sighed and  shook his head. “Never mind. W-we can worry about that later, yeah? Don’t worry about it. Cooperating is your only job, just leave the rest up to me, okay?” Even if he really wasn’t the best at this job. No. No, he promised himself that he would try. Trying is what he could do now. 

Clint nodded slightly, unbothered, but  before he could respond, JARVIS chimed in from above: “Captain Rogers is on his way.” 

“Thank you, JARVIS…” Bruce thought for a  minute before clearing his throat. He should probably get s better grasp of what’s going on. “Uh… Clint? Did you get injured, by chance?”

“ _ Alw’s  _ hurt…” 

“Where?” 

Slowly, Clint brought his hand to his chest  and gave Bruce a very punctuated pouty face. 

Bruce tried to ignore the urge to smack him  in the head after that comment. He suddenly understood why Natasha did it so much. “ _ Serious,  _ Clint,” He said instead. “Please? Did you get hurt on this mission?” 

“Mm-mm…” Clint admitted. “ ‘nly brus’s ‘n  scrapes… an’ trauma an—!” 

“Okay, okay, good to hear,” Bruce cut in.  He cast a nervous glance down to Clint’s feet where the thought of moving him popped into his mind. It was unlikely for him to have hurt his leg, but it wasn’t  _ completely  _ out there, was it? It was better to be safe, right? “Clint, I’m going to need you to do a favor and it’s gonna sound strange. 

“Strange’s my  _ middle name…”  _ Clint said  absently. 

“Do you think you can move your foot for  me?” 

The archer’s eyes paused from where they  were drifting sluggishly across the ceiling and slid over to Bruce. “M’ foot?” 

“Please?” 

Despite still seeming quite confused, Clint  obliged. “Oh… it’s like a  _ gopher…”  _

Bruce decided to ignore he comments and  instead watched the boot move forwards, then backwards once, before it was motionless again. 

“Good,” he wasn’t paralyzed at least. 

“Thank you…” Satisfied, he nodded and focused back down on his patient while they waited. “Why didn’t you come to me when you got back? Tell me the truth and be serious.” 

Tired, dazed eyes blinked back open to  meet his and a single eyebrow was raised slightly. “Di’nt… feel sick…?” 

“No? So… it was pretty sudden, then?” 

“Mm-Hmm… like a truck. ‘Ve you ever  been hit by a truck before?” 

“No.” 

“Me neither,” Clint smirked briefly. “Was hit  by a  _ car  _ once though… and  _ lots  _ of bullets…  _ and  _ knives…  _ and—!”  _

“Alright, Clint,” Bruce changed the subject. 

“I heard you went on a solo mission? Am I allowed to ask where?” 

“Mmm… Europe…?” 

“Oh,” Bruce nodded in understanding as  things began to click. “Somewhere out of the country, then?”

“Mm-Hmm…” Clint mumbled drowsily. “I  flew on an  _ airplane!  _ ‘T ‘as fun… I got  _ peanuts… ‘n coffee… love coffee…  _ like a… ‘s like a…” 

When he noticed Clint’s eyes fluttering  again, Bruce opened his mouth to try and keep him awake. However, his attention was drawn to the elevator when the doors slid open and Steve came running out of it. 

“What’s going on?” The soldier demanded.  “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” Bruce glanced down  unfortunately at the patient below him, who seemed to have lost the battle to unconsciousness. “I need to get him back to my lab. You think you can carry him?” 

Steve’s eyes drifted from Bruce’s face,  down to Clint’s, clearly confused. “Uh… sure. What exactly happened?” 

Bruce moved out of the way as Steve bent  down and slipped his hands until the agent’s back. “Careful, go slowly...JARVIS says he passed out on the way back from a mission.” 

Steve frowned down at Clint once he was  safely laying in his arms. “Is he alright?” 

“I’m not sure,” Bruce admitted. “But, I thin  he will be.” 

“Why do you think that?” 

“He ever tell you where he went, by a  chance? Before he left, I mean.” 

“No… he doesn’t tell anyone but Natasha.” 

That was true. 

“Why?” Steve continued. “He tell you?” 

“He did,” Bruce confirmed as they neared  the elevator. “Just now.” 

“Where’d he go?” 

“Europe.” Bruce shook his head a little.  “And,  _ if _ I’m guessing correctly, he didn’t come back untouched.” 

The last thing  Clint remembered was  passing out on the floor. Then, for a while, there was darkness. He was only vaguely aware of something else happening during the time he passed out and now, but he hardly had the energy to remember. 

The only thing he was concerned with  was how absolutely  _ terrible  _ he felt. Everything ached and spun, even before he really opened his eyes. He was hot and cold and shaking and…  _ nauseous…  _

There were loud, but muffled voices  spinning around him, like someone was playing Ring-Around-The-Rosie. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t really comprehend what they were saying. To him, they were merely  _ noises.  _

They did nothing for the headache  pounding against his skull. 

“Are you awake?” The one voice was soft,  but it trumped the rest of the voices to a silence. 

It was at that moment, Clint became aware  of his body. It was aching, shaky, and icky. He groaned and peeled open his eyes slowly. Even so, the voice was  _ grating  _ on his ears. God… what the hell?

“Good… glad to see you’re not dead.” 

Clint blinked a few times, trying to gather  his bearings, before he turned in the direction of the voice. “Steve?” 

“How are you feeling?” 

Clint frowned and cast a look around the  small, clearly isolated room. No windows, one door, a camera— where the  _ hell _ was he? “Uh… what?” 

“You feeling better?” 

“I..” Clint turned his attention back on the  soldier. “I don’t know what happened…. Why the hell ‘m I in… the  _ whitest  _ room…?” 

“Oh. Well, you picked up some kind of  foreign disease when you were in Europe,” the smile that Steve tried to hold back didn’t go unnoticed. “You scared the hell out of us when you passed out… or…  _ Bruce.  _ Scared the hell out of Bruce and more of…  _ worried  _ the rest of us. Had to be put in isolation, so it didn’t spread.” 

“Bruce?” The cause memory struck Clint  sharply. Of the man in question leaning over him worriedly. “Oh…” he was somewhat surprise. 

“Yeah, he really stepped up. We’re all glad  to see he’s taking this ‘medical’ doctor thing more seriously.” 

“You ‘n me  _ both…”  _ Clint mumbled. “How  long was I out?” 

“Oh… about a week and a half, maybe two  weeks.” 

“Oh...Is… everyone okay?” 

“Yeah… just shaken up. I think Bruce is  taking a nap, Natasha is taking a shower… Those two never left your side the entire time they were allowed to be in here. Tony, despite him being pissed about you puking in his elevator, called a professional in foreign disease to come help out… and, Thor was offworld a majority of the time, but he did come back to see how things were going. Heck, even some of your SHIELD friends checked in.” 

All this information was shocking and  heart-warning at the same time. So many people checking in because of his stupidity. Yet, all Clint could think of to say was: “Oh.” 

“Yeah. Oh.” 

“What… what about you?” 

“Uh… I carried you back to the lab. Stayed  with you the first night while Bruce and Tony figured something out… um… I checked in often and I’m sitting here now because Bruce and Natasha needed a break.” 

Again: “Oh. Sorry…”

“It’s alright. Everyone was happy to help.”  Steve actually succeeded in chuckling this time. “You ready for me to tell everyone you’re up?” 

Clint sat back against the pillow with a sigh  and shook his head. “No, they’re going to pluck me,” he admitted ruefully with a smile. “But, y’know… recovery has to start  _ somewhere…  _ go ahead.” 


End file.
